Chronicles of Old Alderaan
by Relfar
Summary: A long, long, long, long time ago on the planet of Alderaan. The citizens live under the rule of the Great Houses, for better or worse. In this first installment the patrons of the Tolko Inn are visited by their local over-lording brat Flax Killesa.
1. Chapter 1

On a snowy mountaintop, incense burned on either side of an old man. The rocky edifice of the gray stone shrine protruded from the surrounding white. Snow fell not on the shrine, nor the man. He was old, for a human, though how old exactly, one could not say. The loosening of his skin had begun many years ago, though had not taken it's toll on his appearance, as much as his contemporaries. There was a still silence around the place. The winds, that once howled around and buffeted the peak, were now calm. Dakron Lixig opened his eyes to the valley. They reflected the world below.

Cattle grazing on the grains of the highlands. Farmers tending the paddies of the lowlands. The rivers connecting the worlds of commerce and thievery. Castles protecting the innocent and the guilty.

As if a song in the air, the future spoke to him in a whisper. Dakron's hand shot out to grasp it, but the vision was gone. The old man mumbled to himself in displeasure. The wind began to howl around the mountaintop. His bones were getting cold once more. Dakron bowed to the shrine, prostrating his body for the stone, before donning a heavy brown robe and beginning his descent.

Tolko Inn rested at the bottom of the mountain. Sevara always knew when Dakron was returning, because the mountain hermit emitted a cloud of steam with his magic keeping him warm. She put the water on to heat and prepared to make his Caamasian tea. She liked looking out the window at the mountains, and her boarders didn't require much attention. Larthee, the most needy of her guests, took both breakfast and dinner, but was always punctual. Rarely did a Tolko guest require more than a meal a day. Residency at the Tolko was primarily an affair of necessity.

Ran'Shar, a fleet-witted foreigner, usually was gone entire days. The alien, a Bith; Sevara thought, always needed his rest during daylight hours. How he found ways to squander the night in these parts was beyond her. After she learned of Ran'Shar's activities, Sevara kept an ear out for any late-night tampering in the nerf herds.

Dakron opened the strong wooden door into Tolko. The snow didn't often come this far down the mountain, so it wasn't strange to the guests that his cloak was dry. Another guest that could be away for days at a time. Dakron was the longest standing guest at Tolko. The mountain had drawn him here nearly a decade ago, and still hadn't laid its secrets before him. Sevara assumed as much as always, when that grim look of failure walked through her door.

Of course most of what she knew about Dakron was assumption, he didn't talk much. She knew he was a magician. As her body fell into the trap of age, his stayed nearly the same as when he'd first arrived. That was the biggest give away. Other signs were little things. He always seemed to have what he needed on hand, even if it had been noticeably on the other side of the room. The final thing was apparent to her whenever Flax Killesa had come to "drink" at Tolko.

Flax Killesa was a brown haired boy of nineteen. Though males of nineteen weren't often considered boys, Flax was exceptionally boyish in his cruelty and manner. Sevara had once known a young boy, in her youth, that would tear the wings off of insects. A flare-wing had bitten his wrist, and the wound had become infected. After the hand was amputated, the boy didn't have the lust for insecticide. Unfortunately, Sevara didn't think Flax was going to be as easy to cure.

Flax had entered fairly quietly, save for the fact that his entourage included a large square-headed man with an unyielding love of Coruscanti chew. The other accompanying feature of Falx's party was a thin lanky fellow, a blade on his hip. Flax too carried armament, however the threat of violence was empty from Flax, unlike his companion. Flax himself had the dark chestnut hair of his house, cropped tight against his head. He was rounder in the face than average, and sported a miniscule mistake of a mustache.

The cohort's target was Varthstrom. The small statured man was so hairy, that some of the girls growing up had teased that he was half Bothan. Sevara didn't know if that was an actual possibility, but his growth of mutton chops over the years hadn't disproven it in any case.

"You there," Flax Killesa addressed Varthstrom. "Dog man." Flax waited for his chewing companion to give a grunt-laugh. Smiling, satisfied with his insult, Flax's game began. "Why don't you take your soup and eat it on the floor?" Flax lowered his head into Varthstrom's eyesight. "Like your ancestors."

A long sip of soup from Varthstom's spoon filled the tense air. Sevara took this moment to notice that Dakron was sitting a mere three feet away from Varth. She would use this chance to do something for Dakron. Sevara knew that she would be able to save him, should a brawl break out. With Flax Killesa as an aggressor, Sevara had simply started a countdown. She slowly approached the table.

"Here," Flax grabbed the bowl of soup. "Let me help you." He said flipping the bowl onto the floor of the meal-room. Flax Killesa squatted next to the spilt soup, and motioned above it. "Dinner time. Come here boy." He patted his calf. "Eat your food."

Varthstrom surveyed the room for allies. His eyes never landing on Dakron. However, he found the pal he was looking for when Ran'Shar came down the stairs after a long slumber.

Ran'Shar made a strange sound that Sevara had never heard. It was guttural, but light, and was full of malice. The swordsman turned pale.

"Shar Shar." The swordsman began in an unconvincing, and borderline adolescent voice. " I didn't know you were staying here. So nice to see you up and about."

"What's this about Raksby?" Flax inquired in a low voice.

"Remember the Bith at the Spice Exchange party?" Raksby replied in an even lower voice.

"Him!?" Flax Killesa had no control over the volume of his dismay.

Sevara was so stunned, and captivated, by the sudden turn of events that she forgot about Dakron.

Flax composed himself. "Keltar, the alien." He repressed his earlier surprise and waved off Ran'Shar before returning to Varthstrom.

Varthstrom, the hairy unimposing butt of jokes, was already standing on his chair, knife in hand. "Ya filthy, stuck-up, no-good, ugly, nerf-licking, nobel. I'll gut you where you stand."

"Raksby." Flax replied in a sing-songy way before retreating to a midpoint between the two confrontations.

Racksby drew his blade. Sevara ran to the door, and opened it. Larthee stood regal as he was about to open the door himself, and was confused by the sudden appearance of Sevara.

"The guard." Sevara demanded of Larthee, whose rapple-beast had just settled into its stable.

"My schedule." Larthee demanded weakly, before the sound of metal on metal reached his ears. "The guard?" Larthee inquired quickly. Sevara and Larthee nodded simultaneously - Larthee, with a worried realization as he turned, and Sevara with indignation.

Sevara turned back to a full melee. The high-foreheaded Bith, with his big black eyes, was mounted, both legs around Keltar's neck. Ran'Shar drew what Sevara would later learn was a Bith fruit fork. He stabbed at the brute's eyes, but was stopped by a meaty fist to the abdomen. Ran'Shar swiveled around Keltar, leaving one leg clasped tight around the oaf's neck, pulling them both toward the hard floor of the meal-room.

Raksby and Varthstrom were testing each other, both standing on the main longtable. A few others had joined the din of shouts, passersbys and locals who liked the food. Between Varthstom's legs, Sevara caught a glimpse of Dakron sipping his tea. She was distracted by what she thought was a pair of sisters, gouging, pulling, and rolling around on the floor with each other.

Sevara heard the deep call of the stirred rapple-beast outside, and knew by the time the guard arrived - it would be for cleanup. The innkeeper rattled through the trash, and threw a bottle at Raksby. The distraction, a look of genuine surprise confirming its effectiveness, gave Varthstrom and opening to lunge with his shorter blade. However, Raksby was a swordsman, and not in the way Flax was a "swordsman". With a quick dodge, and swift force his blade took a chunk out of Varthstrom's hairy arm. Raksby was fleet of foot, and felt comfortable standing on the edge of the table.

Raksby took a step for the killing blow, and tripped. The bench cracked beneath his gravity, and Sevara saw Dakron already crossing the room with ease. The entangled ladies rolled just behind his robeline shouting, and Sevara thought she saw a bloody scalp. She prepared her mop for the aftermath. She came out of her cleaning closet. to Dakron's smiling face.

"I'll be going to my room, I won't be down for breakfast." The old man nodded to her as he walked over the grappled Keltar, who was turning a few shades darker than Sevara had ever seen a human.

That's when Flax drew his sword. Sevara gasped, and looked around for some sort of weapon. Flax was faster than he looked. He stabbed the unsuspecting Bith in the back with his blade. His demeanor was more serious than Sevara had ever suspected, maybe the nineteen-year-old man peeking from behind a veneer.

"Listen up. An alien has been stabbed, and a man wounded." Flax pointed at both instances. "We're going to leave now, because I'm bored." The emphasis on this last word sent a shiver down Sevara's spine with its severe honesty. "You can tell the guard where to find us. The castle isn't too hard to find." Flax approached the bar where Sevara was watching. "Bar rag if you'd please?" She complied, his sword not far from her abdomen. He used it to wipe the alien blood off his sword.

"Raksby, Keltar. With me." He announced it nonchalantly, but Keltar was the first to join him on his way outside. Raksby worked to overpower his armed assailant while his sword lay on the ground. Another patron laid a hand on Varthstrom's back, and the hairy man knew that the bout was over. As soon as he dismounted the swordsman, and Raksby lowered his guard, Varthstrom cut Raksby's arm in the same place he'd been cut. Raksby, though proud, retrieved his sword, and retreated with his retainer.

Varthstrom followed them to the door and spat as they left, before falling back against the doorframe in exhaustion. Ran'Shar was leaning back in a chair to let his bruised ribs settle. Sevara fetched them first aid materials, and went to see if there were any Kolto injections stored away. It wasn't cheap, Kolto, being shipped in from so far away, but the kick in the teeth you got when you took it was worth the price. Not like Stims, Sevara knew, you could come down from Stims. Kolto was clean and effective.

By the time the fighters were patched up, save for the sisters which had disappeared entirely, a woman entered the room with a forceful stride. She had both a blade, and shield ring hanging from her belt. Her clothing denoting her captain's rank in the guard. Sevara had always wondered why the guard had such unnecessary pauldrons.

"Sevara." The woman greeted with heels meeting and a bow.

"Captain Triff. The unruly castle boy was back. Harmed two of my patrons."

Triff nodded, and with embarrassment apologized, "I understand. If there is any actual criminal activity I may help you with please let me know."

Sevara grunted. "Just the usual. I assume the House will address the wounds inflicted?"

"Certainly." Triff replied. She motioned to her comrades to address the injured.

As the room cleared, Sevara was left alone with a melancholy Triff. The captain turned to leave.

"You know if I could, Sev -"

"I know Captain. Good day."

The door closed behind Triff, leaving Sevara alone with her thoughts.

There she stood behind the bar, remembering, as the boil came for the Caamasian tea.


	2. Chapter 2

A herd of lean bodied animals grazed on the depopulated hills of the Panteer truce zone. A particular nerf looked, from a distance, to have a humped back. The dark brown cloak matched the color of the fur covering the front half of the animal's body. Kalis nuzzled his beard into the matted hair of the nerf's mane as he tried to get more comfortable. His coarse, curly black hairs, flecked white from age, intertwined with the soft fur. Kalis let his arms dangle on either side of the beast. Sometimes, he found bug bites the beginnings of bird's nests on his fingers' travels through the fur. He let them travel wrapping the long hairs around in only momentary curls. As long as his herd ate well, and the rains came as they should, all of Kalis's nerfs kept a healthy coat.

The four-horned animals didn't seem to mind Kalis's presence, even the bull on which he laid. Bull nerfs were notorious for gouging Manka, and other predators, that might attack the herd. The protection benefit came with great peril come harvest, and the Alderaani herdsman all but eliminated bulls from the herd. The top horns of the female nerf were blunter than those of the male, but that didn't make them any less aggressive to outsiders. The main danger of even casual nerf ranching, was the spit.

Nerfs had a couple of meters at which they could hit enemies with their black, tar-like saliva. This ranged attack often blinded predators before they received the full force of the horns. If that failed, the spittle was so acidic, that, at least to humans, a direct hit to the eyes meant permanent blindness, if not washed out in a few minutes.

Kalis breathed in the scent that so many of other occupations despised. Where others smelled decay and rot, Kalis smelled growth. Flowers in bloom, grass seed trapped in layers of fur, the breeze carrying pollen to far fields. The whole ecosystem churning in a whirlwind around him, and not a soul knew exactly where he was. The middle of everything, and even Thranta Scouts would just assume the roving band of nerfs were wild, directionless.

Kalis stretched out on the back of his bull, Juji. The soles of his feet ran along the smooth, body adhering, part of the animal's hair. His toes curled up, displacing some of it in a tuft, before he patted it back down.

His herd knew him, and he knew them. Not all of them had names, like Juji, but

most of them he had watched as they learned to stand. This contrasted greatly to the ranchers that ran the nerf conglomerates. Kalis knew they both had their places in the galaxy. Some years were bad for roaming herds, flood or landslide, even displaced Manka cats could take out an entire herd. The commerce of the systems couldn't afford to lose all of the Alderaani nerfs any given year. However, in other years, Kalis got to share the bounty of his work. Milk, clothing, meat, and even utensils could be used by his neighbors, or sometimes even people in the city. His nerfs were important, and special, to people Kalis actually knew. That was worth something to him.

Amidst the wind blowing through the field, Kalis sensed a disturbance. Thranta weren't uncommon in the wild skies of uninhabited Alderanni grassland. These sky-rays didn't stick to any one region too long though. Aeroplankton didn't stand a chance against the giant, reptilian flying beasts. The thranta opened their testudinoid mouths sucking in the critters, along with air for their great sacs. Their fleshy wings kept the large creatures flying, and were great at maneuvering, but the real secrets to the lift were the spaces inside the thranta's body cavity filling with warm air.

As far as Kalis was concerned, his near snoring indicated he wasn't, thranta weren't a threat to his herd. The large creatures actually scared away some of the raptors that were ballsy enough to harass a group of nerfs, wild or not. As the deep thuum, thuum, thuum, of the thranta wings came closer though, Kalis began to raise himself from deep relaxation. The wingbeats were too regulated to be a wild thranta.

Did they see me? Kalis assumed one of the house's Thranta Scouts had spotted him, and was going to ask for his landpass any time now. He would have to tell them that, while he didn't have a landpass, they were technically still in the 'unclaimed' truce zone. That meant no house had legal means of dealing with anyone seen as trespassing.

Kalis raised his swarthy face from under his hood. The thranta was circling the herd now, letting its left wing zoom inches above the ground. The nerfs responded in a docile fashion, drawing closer together, but not complaining more than the occasional fuss of slight head flailing. When the herd became tight enough, Kalis felt the bodies pressing on either side of Juji. Kalis patted the bull's side, urging him forward. Even the ornery heifers in front of Juji parted for the men of the herd. Kalis slowly raised from his spot as they approached the edge of the ring the thranta was making, the rushing burst of air from the wing-flaps whipped the brown robe taut around his body.

Juji and Kalis were face to face with a harnessed thranta, who now hovered in front of them, causing the rest of the herd to scatter twain. This wasn't a Thranta Scout. The woman riding the sky-ray was wearing armor from the abdomen up. While the bronze breastplate and pauldrons weighed heavy on her frame, her arms were completely free of armor. Her hands seemed to have only partial covering by leather. In one of her hands, she grasped a bow. A helmet covered the back of her head, and forehead, leaving the front open save for a slightly tinted visor.

The rider looked somewhat surprised to see Kalis rise from the obscurity of his cloak, but her mount showed no indication that there was anything to fear from the man on nerf-back. The triangular bottom jaw lowered and opened, revealing a web of pale stringy 'teeth' on the roof and sides of the massive maw. Kalis knew the thranta wouldn't eat him for food, but that gaping mouth had no problems wrapping around vertebrates to snap them.

"Herdsman! Dismount and surrender!" The woman's voice somehow carried over the gusts of wind from the hovering thranta. Kalis did not move. As the stillness between them began to solidify like Balmorran jelly, two other thranta riders entered Kalis's vision. They started rounding up the nerfs who wouldn't follow Kalis straight into death, namely all of them except Juji. "I said dismount!" The rider in front of him raised her bow arm, and drew an arrow from a quiver next to one of her strapped-in legs.

Seeing that the messy-haired, unbathed, poorly dressed farmhand wasn't going to comply, she drew her bow. There was great pride to be had, firing from the back of a thranta. Aerial combat with bows and arrows was difficult, to say the least. Even now, the woman compensated for the breathing of her mount, and the slight alterations in altitude from the back and forth motion of the giant wings. Yips and hollers came from the other two sky-raiders as they effectively channeled the herd south toward a valley.

Further south was Daw's Pass. Kalis was sure they would have more compatriots that weren't skilled flyers waiting to take the herd from there. Possibly, if they had a pre-determined buyer another herdsman, or even a conglomerate official, would be waiting to come out of the other side of the pass. That's where the the dividing line from truce-zone to Thul lands lay. The pass marked a major defeat for General Daw. Despite having supreme defensive advantage in the terrain, fell to Baron Kirkland Ulgo.

The arrow left the string and headed true toward Kalis. Within the darkness of the woman's blink, Kalis rose. Snap! He perched on Juji's back, and a long staff separated the air in front of him. The arrow, bisected, fell to the ground without causing harm. Kalis's staff was of personal design. The long shaft was headed by a four hooks. Each hook was usually meant for a specific horn on the nerf, but they were then still vibrating from the missile deflection.

The woman sat stunned by this turn of events. She pulled the reigns of her thranta, and the animal turned to fly towards the herd. There was a box aft of the woman's saddle, about a hand tall and wide, but almost a meter long. The rider pulled a corded black device from it up to her mouth as the sky-ray began its ascent.

Juji begin to follow. His movement exploded onto the grasslands throwing loose clods of dirt skyward. Hoofs pounded on rocky soil as the beast seemed to be like a landslide moving down the sloping hills. Kalis rode consistently still despite the quake of power underneath him. His knees laid on either side of Juji's spine his feet curled under him. Straight-backed and exceedingly stoic, Kalis sat, his staff across his lap, observing the movement in the valley.

Some of the older ladies of the herd had slowed down, now nearly getting clipped by the circling thranta in the rear. Juji sped up, letting out a long, low grunt. The thrata nearly made perfect forty-five degree angles with the ground, when corralling the nerfs. A spiky haired youth, the sides of his head shaved, started to draw his bow to fire upon the lethargic nerf cows. However, upon the herd's approach of a ravine, he had to flip his angle to the opposite wing, to begin steering the beasts away from peril. In these few moments, Juji met the herd. His hooves pounded up the thranta wing, bringing the creature crashing into the planet. Kalis steadied his grip on his staff as his feet flipped up, and propelled him, blunt end first, into the sky-raider.

The momentum caused them to both end up surrounded by nerfs on either side. Juji escaped the destruction caused by the crashing sky-ray, and turned to find Kalis.

"J-j-j-jedi?" The confused, and concussed, raider inquired. Kalis's face turned more somber than the blank expression he was clearly more comfortable wearing. Wood of the staff came down hard on the potential thief's skull.

The other male thranta rider rounded, addressing the obvious cause for harm, Juji. A shower of arrows came from his filth-dove like stance above. Juji dodged most of the arrows, using the natural landscape for cover from the missiles. One of the jagged metal menaces entered Juji's side, causing him to choose even denser rocky terrain for cover. Kalis nearly flew to the aid of his bull. The strength of his legs didn't do him enough service though, as he saw the gleam of a clean shot in the sky-raider's eye. Within a moment, it was replaced with an arrow. His shaded visor shattered, and the shallow wound from the sudden bolt let the arrow fall away. The creamy tissue fell out into the raider's hand, as he screamed.

The woman had returned from cloud cover. She confidently landed her thranta, disengaging her pneumatic leg bindings, and sliding groundward. She took off her helmet, letting a long braid of silky black hair fly free in the native winds. Without hesitation, and no indication toward her comrade. She approached Kalis. Upon entering his personal sphere, she kneeled.

"I'm Lucina Qel-Nosh. I am sorry we attacked you. I'm at your service."


	3. Chapter 3

"Flax!" His old man called out too loudly to the young man sitting only a few yards away. Flax put down his model sail-barge, and gathered himself to approach his father's bedside. Red silks engulfed the puffy old man. His arms and head poked out like rocks jutting from the sea.

"Yes, Father." Flax leaned over his father, hands stiff behind his back. The old eyes searched for Flax, but didn't find him. The senior Killesa scowled and his right hand began to shake. As the first signs of tears began to show themselves, Flax interrupted, "I'm here, Father."

"Ah." Py-Tor Killesa's half-frow turned into a thin straight line. "Rotate me."

"Of course, Father." Flax again lifted his father's body, rotating him slightly, to avoid the accumulation of bed sores. The men were somewhat opposite each other. Flax, young, with a thin frame and taut musculature. Py-Tor's skin felt too soft and loose in Flax's hands. Flax imagined it was something like what the underside of a hutt might feel like; especially on warmer days, when Py-Tor lay in his sweat.

A look of concern crossed the older man's face. He hesitated for a moment, but then decided on speaking.

"How are your studies?"

Confusion muddled Flax's face into an ungainly knot. He wasn't used to inquires of this nature, and took a moment to respond.

"Flax?" His father asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"I'm here, Father. Studies just weren't on my mind." Py-Tor frowned slightly, so Flax worked hard to respond. "Master Lark has been very good at helping me engage in Treaty Preparation. We are going over Panteer Truce. It's quite fascinating, hearing stories about how each line was so difficult to reconcile."

"Yes," Py-Tor coughed. "Current events can be quite interesting."

Such comments made Flax wonder if his father knew what century they were in. Sometimes, late at night, Py-Tor would call out for his slug-thrower. Flax had never seen a slug-thrower. The weapons had been completely outlawed in the elder man's teens. That, and "blasters" from the city planet of Coruscant, were strictly and violently removed from the planet at large.

Flax and Lark had already covered this older _Great Truce of the People of Alderaan_. The terms were not as interesting to learn about. As Master Lark had taught, the key points were not negotiated as they would have been between equal states. Instead, they had been dictated from on high. Atop that pedestal, sat Queen Alde. Flax thought to a portrait of the Queen he had seen at an Organa gala. Her throne immaculately jeweled, and in her right hand, the Orb of Alde. A large blue jewel nearly a third-meter in diameter.

"Do you need anything else, Father?" Flax asked as gently as he could. His wondering mind was no good for the wit needed to keep up with an actual parental conversation.

"No." Py-Tor's eyes drifted downward, no longer making the effort to look in Flax's direction. The old man pouted.

Flax turned to leave.

"Wait, my son." Py-Tor reached out to grab his arm. He was only missing by a few inches, and Flax moved his arm into his father's grasp.

"Yes, Father?"

"What do you think of your brother's hand as regent?"

Flax stumbled for words. "He seems to steer and even ship. The people are constant with complaints, and he is quick to address them."

"What of his bride-to-be? The Ulgo girl." Flax tried to scan his father's face for the correct response. Contemplative, but otherwise no indication of _his_ stance on 'The Ulgo girl.'

Flax always thought Krasa was pretty, but never thought of engaging her on a personal level.

Krasa was one of the dividing points between Ly-Ru and Flax. Nothing personal to Krasa, but the principle enraged Flax.

Count Killesa searched for the right match for his first born son. Only the best could be acquired for Ly-Ru and the future of the Killesa line. Flax was left to either fend for himself. Other second sons Flax knew got married for political gains, but Py-Tor was far too enfeebled to actively pursue such a marriage.

"She is a friend of the people, and the court adores her. She compliments Ly-Ru's strengths, and helps smooth any deficiencies." Flax breathed a slight sigh of relief as Py-Tor nodded slowly.

"The state of the county is in good-hands then?" Py-Tor's brow furrowed making his question like arrow down the point of his nose.

Flax paused. He couldn't see any good coming from a negative response against his brother. "Our dominion is as well-handled as I've ever seen, Father."

Py-Tor frowned, but then let his expression mellow. His hand fell back to the bed, caressing the silk sheets. "Very well, my son. Thank you for your ear, and your company."

"Thank you for having me, Father." Flax bowed instinctively, as he turned to go back to his work table. The sail-barge was a special project of Flax's. House Serrus was well known for river trade, and the front sail bore their crossed-sword sigil. The front sails still saw some purpose for propulsion on the large rivers of Alderaan, but they were slowly being phased out by a rear hover-engine. The other two sails displayed behind it were more for show. They splayed out like the fans of a lizard's neck from behind the mainsail.

Flax constantly readjusted the alignment on these two back sails. They were supposed to be perfectly horizontal, or so Flax thought. However, the inner spines of the two fans touched if they became too close to straight. Every time he finished a section of the extravagant sail-barge, he would tinker and skew the sails just enough that they looked right. This slowed the process more than he'd like to admit, but sometimes he thanked the Force for giving him this solitary time with his Father. Sometimes he cursed the Force.

It was afternoons like these that Flax was relaxed, and if not joyful, content in his family home.

 **...**

"You're an actual bastard." Flax held Vare Nolan by the collar. Vare's thin body was pressed against an alley wall. "You do know that, Right?" Vare spit into Flax's face. Flax responded unhesitantly with a swift punch to the abdomen. "What -" Another blow. "-gave you-" Vare winced as the pummeling continued "-the right."

Flax saw the look in Vare's eye that told him to stop. He shoved the younger man away into the muck of the wet alley. Mud splattered up the walls. Flax stood shaking with rage.

"Never let me see you talk to a woman like that again. I'm sure you know the fatherless have no recourse when their bodies turn up lifeless."

Flax stumbled out of the alley. His body couldn't handle the pressure of his inner voice. _Kill_. Racksby and Keltar stood in the street. The broad Keltar helped to steady his comrade. Racksby started, "Drinks then, Gentlemen?" Flax nodded. The trio was deliberate with their step all the way to the stone arch of the True Owl cantina.

There were eight smoothstone tables; two on the left of the entryway and six down the wall. The bar itself was completely metal. The patrons of the draft den were exclusively human. Two ladies at the far left table sipped wine over an appetizer that sat unfinished. Two pairs of men playing "Castle High" occupied the two middle tables. The closer pair laid down cards at the pace of a heart beat. While the elder pair, fourth table from the door, seemed to make strong deliberate flicks of the cards onto the table.

Flax and his pals sauntered to their table in the rear. The Viscount Killesa more standard in his step, and grinning at the corner of his mouth. Keltar took his chair catty-corner to the table. He leaned back against the corner of the wall. Flax placed his back to the wall as well. Letting the weight of his station slowly melt off his shoulders. Racksby came back with three cylinders of ale.

"You know we could've gone back to the Duck and Waddle. They wouldn't turn down their Viscount." Racksby sat opposite Flax, and sipped at his drink.

"It's best not to simply throw power around. To focus it in a singular direction, for the largest gains." Flax tasted his ale, but then began to just swirl it about in his cup. "There's a story of a Thul king who took advantage of all the niceties that came with power. Free drink, free women, large balls, grand tournaments, feast days for insignificant events."

Flax took a swig of ale. "Then, there was Duchess Panteer. She was so pointedly set on the throne. At that time, Panteer was only a borderline major house. Many of the other houses didn't even register Panteer as worthy of a duchy. But she consolidated her power, and built forces to take swift victory over the king's army."

Keltar put down his empty cup and began to scratch himself. First on his abdomen and then up the neck. "The king was so splayed with his power for all to see that he underestimated anyone's attempt at his throne. The Duchess showed us all an example of how to use the gifts given to us."

A calm settled over the table. Both Keltar and Racksby nodded slowly.

"I wanna hit something." Keltar stated in a low even voice.

"I'd like to stab something." Racksby agreed.

Flax raised his voice a little more than was polite, "You need to change one thing to be great! 'Something' needs to become one single thing. Focus."

Keltar sat thinking about it. Racksby was the one who finally came up with something. "What if, instead of just stabbing anything, I want to stab better?"

"Good start, but when going get's tough, what's going to be your focus for improvement?" Flax was wide-eyed. He felt like he was doing such a good job inspiring his comrades, that he started to become inspired. "What about the Force?"

The table went quiet. The old men collected their cards and left promptly.

"The Force?" Racksby said under his breath. "Bold use of power, Flax." The barman nervously re-rinsed a cylinder as he stared at the young noble.

"Yes, the Force." Flax said, resolute. "The greatest swordsmen of history claim an affiliation with the Force. Zefra Qel-Nosh claimed he knew what his enemies were doing before they did it. Laegen Ulgo supposedly caved in chest cavities with a single punch. If we're aspiring to greatness then the Force is the next step."

Keltar began to nod. It was obvious to his friends, that he was imagining the feeling a man's bones succumbing to his fist. "I thought only chosen people could be strong in the Force."

"That's narrow thinking Keltar." Flax shook his head, but wasn't rude in tone. "The only reason to say something like that is if you wanted to keep the power to yourself. Propaganda. That would be like if some Vizer or Templarius started giving out 'Force readings'. The Force can't be quantified. Anyone who says otherwise is a charlatan."

Racksby and Keltar both seemed to settle into the idea. Racksby was actually delighted, and proud to have a friend so noteworthy, that they could speak about the Force in public. Keltar and Flax watched the barman shuffle out the last of the patrons, so that the cantina stood empty.

A woman stood in the doorway. Her metal and leather armor lay below a white-on-gray tabard. The sigil, a long horizontal diamond, denoted her house: Killesa. The gold and ebony broach showed her captainship. She bowed slightly.

"Captain Jistle Triff, announcing herself for the Viscount."

"Yes Captain?" Flax shouted from across the room, making it clear she was not to come closer until invited.

"I would ask permission to take these two men into custody for spreading word against the Temple. I'm sure the Viscount knows that the Force is only to be discussed within the confines of the Temple ground."

Flax nodded, and stood. Racksby and Keltar rose with him. Flax kept nodding. He was working something out in his mind.

"Lads. You aren't going to like this."

"What's that Flax?" Racksby wasn't sure what his friend was up to.

"I hope you like prison food."

"Nerf!" Keltar yelled at Flax.

Flax raised his hand, to stop Keltar from raising his fist against him.

"Captain!" He held out his hands, his wrist touching. "Take us away!"


	4. Chapter 4

Lucina watched with rapt attention as Kalis stood over the raiding partner that she shot in the eye. His visor slowed the arrow down considerably, and it had not peirced his skull. A sick burning smell came up from the wounded man's face. Kalis held his hand in front of the bloody socket. Between his fingers and the man's skin arched a purple glow. Lucina heard the crackle, saw the glow, and smelled the burning flesh. She almost gagged as the streaks of lightning hit the socket flesh.

"Are you-" She began to ask.

"-No." Kalis replied with a huff. He moved from the front of the man to the military pack behind the saddle strapped to the thranta. After a short rummage, Kalis raised a hand length vial filled with an off-pink liquid, before plunging the needle end into the wonded man's neck.

"Why are you helping him? He's the one that planned to steal your heard." Kalis hopped off the back of one dead thranta, and began to move to the one Juji trampled.

"And you felt his plan was wrong at what point?" Lucina found it hard to not take that question like an arrow itself.

"There was nothing wrong with the plan, until _you_ were the target." She tried to be diplomatic.

"Explain." Kalis said simply as he climbed up the thranta corpse.

"You're a-" Lucina began before the old man cleared his throat. "A Force user." She said intently.

"The Force and I have a relationship, yes." Kalis began to rummage through the dead raider's pack. "What of it?"

"We couldn't beat you if we wanted to, plus. I-" Lucina hesitated. "I want to learn from you."

Kalis raised his head to look Lucina in the eye. She felt the intensity from the gaze, even though half his mouth was tearing through the corner of a biofoil wrapped rationpack. Kalis stopped on the spot and sank into a medatative pose. Lucina looked at her former commrades. She remembered arguing with Drevarian Siltpress about the mission before they found, this man.

"Did you have a buyer?" Kalis asked departing the thranta.

"Yes, on the other side of the pass."

Kalis pointed toward Juji. "Patch him up, and use him to lead the herd through the pass. The others will follow him. Make sure that you don't let this fellow-" He pointed to Drevarian. "-get a wiff of the proceeds."

"I don't want to sell the heard. I want you to teach me!"

Kalis bristtled. "Teach you what?" He approached Lucina. Power came off him in waves flattening the grass as he walked.

Lucina stood calm in the face of the challange. "The Force." The waves coming off Kalis died down.

"A complete knowlege of the force does not entitle you to the powers displayed by people like the Jedi. Are you ready to take the chance that you have not been chosen?"

Lucina thought a long while, as Kalis surveyed the rest of the choatic scene, ready to depart.

"I am a noble daughter of the House of Qel-Nosh." This stopped Kalis in his tracks and his power immediately laid flat a circle in the grass as wide as his height. Lucina didn't look at him. She shearched her mind for the right words.

"But I've put that behind me. No matter how easy it was to become a THranta Rider, it wasn't easy being one. I made many terrible choices to end up with that gang, but I'm ready to distance myself from those mistakes and learn what it takes to find my destiny in this world." Lucina paused. "Even it I find out it isnt't with the Force."

She looked up and noticed the grass was still again.

"How much was your buyer going to pay you?" Kalis asked.

"80 tokens a head-"

"That Bothan Manged Swindler!" Kalis barked. He took a breath in and out before continuing in a calmer tone. "I'm going to select four of the herd to keep until we reach town. The rest I want you to sell in the pass. Sell your thranta if you can, then walk to meet me with the tokens."

"Wouldn't it by safer if I kept her? Quicker too-"

Kalis poorly supressed a growl. "-I try and stay out of sight. Not flying where everyone can see me is one of my top priorities. If you and the creature are a package deal I hear that the Shadow Temples are recruiting."

Though his words were harsh, Kalis climed onto one of the nerfs that he had chosen to keep. The effortlessness with which he mounted the creature impressed Luciana. Due to her training, she couldn't imagine mounting a thranta that easily. There were too many pnuemantics, straps, and buckles. Kalis collected the othe three animals with a slight tug of their four-horned heads with his stave. "I'll see you when you get done." Kalis paused. "Or not, you decide."

Lucina clenched her fis, watching Kalis and his nerfs slowly plod down the hill.

"How will I find you?" Lucina called.

Kalis turned so effortlessly, and there was so much brown matching to his clothing to nerfback, that she could have sworn his hip was disconnected from his spine.

"I'll call out to you. All you have to do is clear your mind and listen." With that he turned back away from her, his pace of withdraw painfullt slow. There were so many questions, but she assumed this was all part of some sort of test.

Lucina went to Juji. She examined the arrow wound and then searched the raider's packs for supplies. Medpacks were literally life savers. She numbed the pain, filled the wound with foam after extracting the arrow, and patched it up all out of Drevarian's pack. With Juji fixed up, she would be ready to depart. Lucina went to her thranta.

"It'll be okay, Long." She said petting his smooth nape. The creature, who Lucina had brought out of captivity, gave a large disheaertened sigh. This cycled the air of his floatsacks keeping his altitude stable.

The rise and fall of his body stirred something in Lucina, and she started rapidly unbuckling, unstrapping, and unscrewing all the equipment from the back of the thranta. As she threw off peices of gear, she thought about how lonf she had worked to get each peice. Helmet - Three days wage. Saddle - Four months. Standard issue contraband medpack - Forty-five days. Soforth, with pounds of clothing, knicknacks, and a few holopads. Her raiding companions had called them bricks. She never found out if either of them could actually read.

After the baggage was away, Lucina slid off the animal and gazed at him. It was the first time she had seen Long without some kind of retraint or that electric collar his former owners kept him in.

"He wasn't sure I'd be able to sell you." Lucina said as she stroke the thranta's nasal ridge. "Which means." She grit her teeth and felt the tears well in the corners of her eyes. "That I'm free to let you go."

Lucina stood there for what seemed like hours stroking Long's face and fighting back tears. However, after a few moments, Long gave a delighted sigh as he stretched out his wings. He turned his head, rubbing his cheek again Lucina's body. Sucking air into his floatsacks, Long began to flap his large leathery wings. The flying reptile rose slowly into the air and looked down at Lucina as he acended. She squelched and sign that she had been crying with a sniff, and nodded at the large beast.

Long took to the sky, doing one circle around the nerfs, drawing their attention to Juji and Lucina. He then rode the air higher before dissapearing into the clouds.

Lucina grabbed a couple of medical supplies, her bow, arrows, a bronze amulet, and a change of clothes. She slung the freshly packed gear and bow on the back of Juji. She began to mount, carefully to avoid his wound. As her hand entered the tangled maze of filth and goo that matted the beast's fur, Lucina held back a gag, but not a grimace. Throwing another hand over, she held her breath and tossed her lower body on the back of the nerf. Daw's Pass was only half a day's walk from where Lucina's band had attacked Kalis. If she had taken Long, she could have floated on the ridges above, looking down on the herd below.

Juji wasn't cooperative at first. His clam demenor left as soon as Lucina hopped on his back. He shook his head. Throwing it back made his four horns jab at his new rider. She froze at first, thinking that she had somehow already failed her test. However, Lucina paused, composed herself, and rubbed the back of the creature's neck. She frowned as her fingers passed through spit, bugs, snot, puss, and other sticky semi-liquid substances.

"Let's go." Lucina commanded. Juji seemed to calm down, and began to walk. He was pointed in the wrong direction, and Lucina reached out to grab one of his horns. Feeling the weight shift forward, Juji threw back his head, spearing Lucina's forarm with one of his horns.

"Nerf Lick!" Lucina grasped her wounded arm in pain. Juji capitalized, and bucked his rider, and all of her gear. The former thranta rider wasn't shy of a fall, and made sure not to further endanger her arm. She and the rest of her things laid in the mud for a few moments. Lucina looked over for her medpack, instead her eyes caught the amulet. The Block and Nail, the crest of her house, covered in mud. She caught herself laughing, before pain shot up her bleeding arm.

The medical foam filled in her flesh with a stinging and itching sensation. Lucina picked up her things, leaving the Qel-Nosh amulet in the mud, and began walking alongside Juji. She put herself to his unwounded side, and the two of them led the herd to Daw's Pass. As the group entered the pass, Lucina sorely missed the open air grassland. It began with the nerf's hooves clacking on the hard barren rocky soil. As the wall began to close in, it reverberated and grated in Lucina's head. Then the clostrophobic area lendt a new annoyance, the moist, hot, musty air rising off the backs of the nerfs, who grew closer as the pass became more narrow. Lucina sighed and tried to reassure herself, quoting an old hero story.

"The path of a destiny is unknowable, we can only thank the Force to be alive to take the first step."


End file.
